


low tide

by hughdancy



Category: Gifted (Movie 2017)
Genre: Family Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Uncle-Niece Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 18:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18762418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hughdancy/pseuds/hughdancy
Summary: A moment with Mary, four years old and newly aware of just how mother-less she actually is.





	low tide

**Author's Note:**

> this is a tiny tidbit I wrote forever ago and didn't really know what to do with. then I decided I kinda like this just as its own thing, so here it is!

The first time she misses her mom, she’s four years old. It’s ten days since Frank explained it to her, showed her the photos, said the words _she died._ She won’t know what of for about a year and a half, and she’ll find that out on her own. Long before Frank planned to tell her. Not that he had a plan, exactly, but the thing he did have was the vague idea of telling her much, much later.

This first time, she’s standing on the shore, waiting for the tide to come up. Her toes curl into the sand and she tugs down her blue baseball cap, squinting against the sun. The breeze rustles her hair around her shoulders and cools her skin through her damp swimsuit.

It’s the first time she feels like there’s someone who’s supposed to be there. Like she’s late to arrive, but any second she’ll pull up in a little four-door and tumble out with a smile. Or they’ll go home and find her on the couch, reading, but she’ll throw open her arms as soon as they step inside.

None of this can happen, of course. Even there, four years old with sand stuck under her fingernails and little knowledge of the specifics tucked within she died, Mary knows. She knows she’s already craving that normalcy that will always exist just beyond her reach.

She always knew something was off. The other kids had moms and dads and siblings. They talked about their grandparents visiting and what their cousins got for Christmas. They had all that, and Mary had a Frank. She knew that wasn’t quite right; she’d just never known enough to realize why.

“Mary?” he calls from several yards away, pushing down his sunglasses. “Are you okay, bug?”

She’s jolted out of something she didn’t know was a feeling.

“It’s too hot,” she whines back. She turns around and starts to walk towards the umbrella, leaving a set of ten tiny indentations lined up in the sand. The tide inches towards them.

“C’mere, it’s good in the shade.”

Frank adjusts his sitting position in the lawn chair, and she gracefully climbs up onto his lap. Once her limbs are untangled, she leans against his chest and tucks her head under his chin.

“Better?” he asks.

She doesn’t say anything. She’s trying to fathom how comfortable she is, how the thing that felt so gaping inside of her a few moments ago is not so blindingly painful at this moment. They have all that, and she has a Frank.

This is where the memories end, and even some of them remain fuzzy in her brain. She won’t remember sitting on Frank’s lap for several minutes before the waves lull her to sleep. After a while, he’ll carefully stand up and take down their camp with one hand, the other holding her against his side, her sleep-heavy head now resting on his shoulder.

The water rushes over her footprints.


End file.
